


dance in the graveyards

by Fives (janfives90)



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F, Oneshot, grave robbing and grave digging and honestly who even knows, warnings: references to homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janfives90/pseuds/Fives
Summary: It was cold for Halloween night.The more superstitious of her friends would say that it was a sign, that she was being warned away from the graveyard on that particular night.As far as she’s concerned, it’s one more reason she should go.





	dance in the graveyards

The lockpick twists and turn and nearly snaps before it clicks open the padlock in Alyssa’s hand.

She slides the tool back into the pocket of her trousers and glances up and down the dimly lit street before pushing open the gate, slipping inside and closing it behind her.

It was cold for Halloween night.

The more superstitious of her friends would say that it was a sign, that she was being warned away from the graveyard on that particular night.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s one more reason she should go.

Besides. She feels like she’s _supposed_ to be there.

Alyssa walks along the cobblestone path through the tombstones, opening her messenger bag and taking out a small shovel.

She’s already scoped out the grave she’s looking for, when it was daylight, and she knows exactly where to go.

She stops in front of the marker, taking a moment to read the letters carved into the faded stone.

_DOROTHEA DOLORES ALLEN_

_1788-1846_

“Right where you’re supposed to be,” Alyssa murmurs. She pushes her shovel into the dirt and begins to dig.

* * *

She’s four feet into the grave when the light of a lantern swings above her head.

“I’m pretty sure that’s my job, miss.”

Alyssa looks up, startled, her back bumping against the wall of the hole she’s dug. There’s a pale woman standing at the edge, squinting down at her in the dim light of the flickering lantern in her hand.

Her wool peacoat is worn, and her dark brown boots are caked with mud. Alyssa can see shadows under the woman’s hazel eyes that have nothing to do with the light she’s holding, and there’s something haunting about her stare that sends shivers up her spine.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I was just…”

“Robbing a grave?”

Alyssa swallows and gives what she hopes is a winning smile. “Can you blame me? The tales say Dorothea Allen was buried with jewels worth thousands. That could keep my mother and I fed for a year.”

“As tempting as it is, miss, people like me don’t dig graves so they can be dug back up again later.” The woman looks up at the dark sky, watching a cloud drift past the full moon. “And Dee Dee won’t appreciate the disruption.”

“You say that as if you know her,” Alyssa laughs.

“Because she _does,_ darling.”

Alyssa turns around, confused by the sudden voice behind her in the pit, and comes face to face with an older woman, pale and shimmering in the moonlight…

…And _translucent._

Alyssa screams and drops her shovel, throwing herself desperately towards the top of the grave, scrambling to get out. The gravedigger grabs her by the back of her shirt and pulls her onto solid ground, where she crouches in the grass, trembling behind the woman’s legs.

“What… What is…”

“You’re the one who came into the graveyard on Halloween,” the gravedigger says casually. “And on a full moon night at that. This place belongs to _them.”_

Alyssa watches as the woman drifts up and out of the hole, floating backwards until she sets herself down to stand on the other side. She sets her hands on her hips and frowns down into the grave, disapproving.

“She could have at _least_ done a better job of keeping it neat. Look at this! It’s a mess!”

“I’m sure she’s very sorry, Dee Dee.” The gravedigger looks down at Alyssa. “Aren’t you?”

“What…”

She rolls her eyes. “A ghost. Yes. Very scary. Have you not seen anything spooky at all during your graverobbing career?”

“This was my first time,” Alyssa whispers. “We’re starving.”

The gravedigger’s eyes soften, and she crouches down to rest a gloved hand on Alyssa’s shoulder. “It’s alright. They won’t hurt you.”

“…They?”

Alyssa turns her head slowly and watches as forms lift out of the earth around them, some shimmering more than others. Not every grave is affected, but enough are that a small crowd forms in the graveyard.

“Oh, God.”

There’s a cold shiver through Alyssa’s body as Dee Dee walks right through her, heading over to join the group. “Don’t just stand there, Emma!” she calls over her shoulder. “We only have one night! Bring the girl to the party if you like her so much!”

“Knock it off,” the gravedigger protests weakly, rubbing the back of her neck. She tightens her grip on her lantern with her other hand and gives Alyssa a sheepish look. “Don’t mind her. She’s bossy.”

“I-I… I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Emma helps Alyssa to her feet. “Every full moon, the restless spirits of this graveyard cross into the physical world. They bond, they tell stories, they make the most of their afterlife.” She grins. “Halloween, though, that’s special. Halloween is when the physical plane can actually be interacted with.”

“Why does that make a difference?”

“Well, because then it can be a party!” Emma holds out a gloved hand, giving Alyssa a soft smile. “Don’t be afraid.”

Alyssa looks at her for a moment, studying the softness in her face, before reaching out and accepting her grip.

Emma leads Alyssa closer to the crowd, and she realizes that she can hear the upbeat sound of music flowing through the thin fog.

The spirits have formed a wide circle, chatting amongst themselves, while some dance together to music being played by a band standing on the top of a crypt.

“Why these ones?” Alyssa asks, curiosity overtaking her fear. “Why these spirits?”

“I’m not really sure,” Emma admits softly. “I sometimes think of it as _unsatisfying ends._ People whose lives were ended before they really did what they wanted to do.”

“Isn’t that when everyone dies?”

“True. But it’s different, I think, when it’s sudden.” Emma gestures around at the group in front of them. “Most of u- them were either besieged by sickness or murdered.” She points at a man shimmering as much as Dee Dee was, standing on the crypt playing the fiddle. “In life, Tom Hawkins was Dee Dee’s driver. He was stabbed protecting her from a mugger in the middle of a storm. She refused to leave his side until he was taken care of, and she ended up getting pneumonia that she couldn’t recover from.”

She points next at a man who has almost no glow to him, bouncing up and down on his heels as he plays a drum. “Trent Oliver. One of the most recently deceased. Taken out by that sudden influenza epidemic five years ago.”

“What about them?” Alyssa asks, her throat tight as she watches two women, about the same physical age as her and Emma, laughing and dancing together.

Emma’s grip on Alyssa’s hand tightens. “Shelby and Kaylee,” she says softly. “They got tried and hanged as witches, but all they did was…” She clears her throat and shrugs her shoulders. “We don’t live in an easy world to fall in love in, I suppose.”

“No,” Alyssa murmurs. “We don’t.”

They stand at the edge, watching the spirits of the graveyard, until a man Emma didn’t point out drifts over to them and slaps a hand down on her shoulder.

“Are you going to join in, kid?”

“I don’t know, Barry. I think our guest is still a bit nervous.”

The man beams at Alyssa and shakes her hand, and her skin feels ice cold at his touch. “Bartholomew Glickman, died 1868. Everybody calls me Barry.”

“Uh… Nice to meet you?”

“Pleasure is mine.” Barry’s eyes sparkle in a way that has nothing to do with how he’s glowing in the light of the moon. “If you can get this stubborn idiot to dance, I’ll like you even more.”

“You’ve been dead twenty years, and you can’t find something better to do with your afterlife than bother me?”

“Nope!” Barry points at a blonde woman who’s doing an amazing dance number by herself in the middle of the circle. “Angie’s tried to get you to dance since the day you met us, and if she can’t do it, I don’t think anybody can.”

“I was ten,” Emma mutters.

Alyssa takes the lantern from her, setting it down on top of a nearby gravemarker. She leans in close to Emma and whispers, “Dance with me.”

“Huh? No-”

“Come on,” Alyssa says with a smirk. “Don’t you want to prove him wrong?”

Emma stares at her, looking a little dumbfounded, as if she’s realizing that she’s caught. After a moment, she shakes her head and says, “You fit right in with this group, miss.”

“Alyssa,” she says quietly as Emma takes her hand and leads her into the circle. “My name is Alyssa.”

The music shifts, slowing down, and Emma’s eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as they meet Alyssa’s. “I’m Emma.”

Alyssa sets her hand on Emma’s shoulder as Emma takes her by the waist, leading her in a slow, patient dance amongst the spirits.

“Can I confess something to you?” Alyssa asks, her voice low.

“You really were just robbing Dee Dee’s grave for money?”

Alyssa laughs and shakes her head. “No. It’s just… I’m relaxed. I feel at peace. I think this might be the first time I’ve felt that in over a year. Is that… Is that wrong?”

Emma is quiet, just watching her.

“It’s not… I’m not saying I envy the dead. I understand that these people went through horrid things. But here? Now? I’ve never felt so calm. I can’t believe that after how scared I was before.”

“This place draws people to it,” Emma murmurs. “People who need it. When your soul is lost, it’s called here. You can find the peace you’ve been searching for, Alyssa.”

In the soft light of the moon, the gentle way Emma is looking at her makes Alyssa’s heart ache.

In the safety of the circle of spirits, Alyssa feels no fear in leaning forward and pressing her lips against those of the gravedigger.

Her body shudders as an icy chill runs through her at the contact.

Alyssa pulls back, the motions of their dance slowing to a stop. “Emma,” she whispers.

Emma’s sad eyes stay locked with Alyssa’s as her gloved hands lead her backwards, to the lantern atop the stone marker. “Lost souls,” she says softly, looking down at the grave when they reach it. “Every one of us.”

Alyssa follows her gaze, and her breath chokes in her throat.

_EMMA ELIZABETH NOLAN_

_1867-1886_

“How?”

“I really was the gravedigger for this place,” Emma says, her voice still quiet. “I slept in the crypts at night, because I didn’t have anywhere to go home to. And one winter night, I just… didn’t wake back up. Until I joined the rest of them on the next full moon.”

“Oh, God,” Alyssa whispers, tears forming in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest with you from the start, but…” Emma shrugs and gives her a guilty smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone new. Certainly someone this beautiful. You seemed so sad that I wanted to try to give you one better night.” She rubs the back of her neck. “I wasn’t expecting you to kiss me and blow the charade.”

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just wish we could’ve had that night before I ruined it.” Alyssa gives a teary laugh. “I really need the break.”

“You’re on the edge of your limit.” Emma cautiously steps back into Alyssa’s space, brushing a tear away with her thumb. “You were called here, Alyssa. People are usually only called here if they’re nearing death themselves. I was gravedigger for a while before I was lost, but I came here myself before I felt the graves reaching out for me. I’m tempted to ask you to stay, but you should leave. Now. Fight it. It might not do you any good, but you can try-”

“Emma,” Alyssa interrupts, setting her hands on her shoulders.

She swallows and nods, waiting for whatever Alyssa is going to say.

“You told me not to be afraid,” Alyssa murmurs. “I’m not afraid.” She leans in and kisses Emma again, but this time the burst of cold fades quickly, warming into a gentle heat that settles in her heart.

She leans back, and she can see the moon’s glow bright in Emma’s eyes. “Okay,” Emma says. She holds out a hand. “Dance with me, Alyssa? There’s only so much moon left until we have to wait until the next one.”

Alyssa takes her hand and squeezes it. “Gladly.”

Emma grins and leads her back to the circle, brushing past a blank gravemarker as they go.

In the light of the moon, letters form on the surface, unnoticed by either of them.

_ALYSSA MARIE GREENE_

_1869-1888_


End file.
